


Fancy Meeting You Here

by AraSigyrn



Series: DCU Free For All (Dick/Clark) [2]
Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-27
Updated: 2011-05-27
Packaged: 2017-10-19 20:05:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AraSigyrn/pseuds/AraSigyrn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nightwing learns to fit in Metropolis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fancy Meeting You Here

_The Daily Planet, main newsroom. 4:05pm_

Nightwing has three of the bombs defused. The alarm shrieks in the empty building. The stairs shudder under the boots of the Bomb Squad. The LCD counters tick away the last few seconds. Red wire is the dud. Green is the decoy. Blue is boom.

Batman had warned him about that. All of the bombs matched the Big Bad Boomer's MO. New mask, new risks. The threats in Gotham had been dismissed as pranks. Right up until the Mayor's latest photo-op was hit. Thank god for Batman. One bout of old-fashioned fisticuffs later and Big Bad was singing like a canary. Batman was on the line to Nightwing less than ten seconds later.

Bombs in Metropolis. No time to call in out-of-towners. Superman wasn't answering his com. Nightwing, only there for the weekend, was suddenly flying solo. Boom's target? The Daily Planet. Reason? Typical megalomania. He wanted to prove he could beat Superman. "It'd be good for business."

Sweat slicks his skin; pooling under the mask and soaking into the Kevlar. He clips the fourth yellow wire. Scrambles under the next desk. Always following the beeping.

Four down. Who-knows-how-many to go. Only twenty two seconds left.

He rips out the wire this time. Sacrifices precious seconds to listen; trying to count the beeps. Five down. Too many beeps to count.

Something in the next cubicle beeps. Another bomb? Nightwing vaults over the partition. It teeters, topples and paper goes everywhere. Stupid newsrooms and open-plan layouts. He's going to complain to Bruce.

Nightwing empties drawers, upsets a briefcase. There! A small black box with LCD screen. A pager. Not a bomb. Five wasted seconds.

He's not super-fast. He's not invulnerable. He's not…alone? The first of the Bomb Squad push through the door. Thirteen seconds. Impossible to stop the bombs in time.

Save the civilians. His thoughts echo like Bruce's commandments.

Nightwing launches himself from the desk. The cop's huge. The force of collision only barely enough to topple them both back into the stairwell. Trusting in the bulky armour and his own skill to keep them alive. They skid, fall, roll down the stairs just as the last of the bombs explode.

The explosion rocks the building. The cops' white faces are just visible behind plexiglass visors. He can see open mouths but nothing audible over the echoes of the explosion. Nightwing shakes the ringing out of his ears and looks up, waiting, _praying_ he'd done enough. The walls quake under the blast and there's a sickening instant when Nightwing really thinks they're going to collapse. Plaster flakes and dust fill the air.

Afterwards, Nightwing thinks about how different Metropolis is.

The cops had lined up to shake his hand, right there in the dust as the Bomb Squad told the whole city how he'd taken out the bombs near the support columns first. He'd smiled and credited 'having a good teacher'. (Batman's voice, talking him through scenario after scenario. "A practiced demolitions user will always distribute their explosives to cause maximum damage and prevent premature discovery. Watch for weak points, support framework and anything flammable.")

Sergeant Fredericks, the cop he'd knocked down the stairs, had clapped him heartily on the back, posed proudly for a picture with him and made him promise that, next time, he'd stay to meet the kids. The rest of the Squad had used up the rest of the memory card taking their own pictures. Then they'd brought him out to meet the press, smiling with proprietary pride.

Back in Gotham, there are cops who've known him since he was Robin - all bright colours and scrawny legs - chirruping alongside Batman. In weird way, they've watched him grow up on the streets. He's been a part of their lives for years but always on the job. They're grateful for his help, thanking him even as the latest of Gotham's mad, bad and dangerous are fitted for a shiny new pair of bracelets. But they never forget that he's a Bat and only one morally ambiguous sidestep away from the lunatics he catches.

In Gotham, the cops – and everyone else – keep one eye on the capes, like they're just waiting for the other shoe to drop. In Metropolis, capes are more like the circus – bright and colourful, making the day better just by being there. Nightwing's rattled, feels off and does what he always does, runs to high ground to assimilate. He finds a perch on top of the Planet's iconic globe, safely above the bombed office and any civilians.

He can hear Perry White, already defiantly back in his office, dictating the next morning's headlines. Nightwing's prepared to bet he beat the repair crews up the stairs. The editor's voice carries clearly through the shattered windows of the floor below. "No, no, no! Come _on_ , people! We need something snappy. 'New Night Shift in Metropolis' or 'Night and Day'. Who is he? Where did he come from? Why is he here? Do we know what Superman thinks of this Nightwing?"

Perry must have stepped away from the window or something because his voice fades into background noise. Nightwing shakes his head, grinning at little at the surreal turn his day has taken. The rustle-snap of a cape brings his head up and his grin softens into a warm smile.

"Hey."

Superman hovers just above him, sun at his back. Nightwing has to squint to make out the neutral expression on his face. He lifts a hand to shade his eyes as he scrambles to his feet, careful of his balance on the slick bronze. "Hey, fancy meeting you here."

The corner of Superman's mouth quirks up but Nightwing can't see if it reached his eyes. "I was held up. There was a hurricane in Malaysia. Still, you seem to have managed all right."

Pride pinks his cheeks and Nightwing rolls his shoulders, straightening up. "Did what I could."

Superman is suddenly much closer, reaching out to curl a warm hand around Nightwing's hip. "Was anyone hurt?"

"I may have dented Sergeant Fredericks' pride when I tackled him." Nightwing's voice is a little high, too breathless to be flippant. "And the Planet's going to need a lot of new windows but other than that, no. We were lucky."

"Mmm." Superman's face is finally close enough to read. "Batman caught the bomber?"

"Uh-huh." Nightwing tilts his head up, lips almost touching.

"Good." Then Superman's lips press against his own, firm, demanding. His arms close possessively around Nightwing's waist, the pressure easing off just short of painful. Superman radiates heat, strength and Nightwing laughs against his mouth, nipping lightly to encourage more. Rising on tip-toe, he angles his head and curls an arm around Superman's neck, trading ever deeper kisses until Superman growls and pulls him close to kiss him thoroughly.

Nightwing purrs into the kiss, barely noticing the way the globe slips out from under curling toes or the silken swish of the cape curling around him. He boosts up enough to hook his leg around Clark, straddling his thigh and kissing back just as forcefully. His eyes flutter closed and he tangles himself up in cape, spandex and muscle. He only hears the shout from below because Clark smiles into the kiss.

"That's it! That's our front page. OLSEN! GET YOUR CAMERA IN HERE!! OL~SEN!!"  



End file.
